


I Can Measure My Life In Full Moons and Moments With You

by Eiiri



Series: Lycanthropic Studies [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexual Remus Lupin, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Love, First Meetings, First Person Narrator, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Growing Up, Growing Up Together, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I guess this is Poetry, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Marauders, POV Remus Lupin, Poetry, Referenced canon deaths, Remus Lupin Narrator, Remus Lupin Needs a Hug, Remus Lupin needs therapy, Second Person Sirius Black, Werewolf, life story, lycanthropy, vaguely implied potential underage sex, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 09:08:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23968861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eiiri/pseuds/Eiiri
Summary: Remus reflects on his relationship to Sirius through the years.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Series: Lycanthropic Studies [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/575263
Comments: 17
Kudos: 89





	I Can Measure My Life In Full Moons and Moments With You

When we were 11 we met on the train.

I was standing in the corridor, afraid to talk to anyone, let alone sit with anyone. But you’d already met James and gotten a compartment together. You stuck you head out, saw me, told me more than asked me to join you. A few minutes later Peter knocked on the compartment door asking if we still had room.

We spent a long time trying to guess where we’d be sorted. You were so sure you’d end up in Slytherin even though you hated the idea. We never thought we’d all end up together. Then we did—you, then me, then Peter, then James. It felt like fate, and maybe it was.

When we were 13 you figured out my darkest secret.

I was sure you’d hate me, all of you. Be scared of me. I’d already gotten two years worth of concerned glances from the three of you, from most of the house, really. Everyone knew I was sick. No one seemed inclined to pry. Then I noticed you whispering, mostly you and James, sometimes Peter, when you thought I was too deep in a book or my homework to notice. But I did notice. The whispering, the calculating glances. I knew you were working it out and I knew I was about to lose you all.

You’re the one who asked me. Caught me alone in our room a couple days after the October full moon and asked me point blank, no implying, no dancing around it, no way for me to wiggle out of it. I stared at you. I balled my bandaged fists and felt the scabs on the backs of hands crack. I hated myself for starting to cry. I nodded and told you yes. Yes I am.

You nodded and said, “Okay.”

When I was 14 I told Alice I thought I was gay.

A month later Lily asked me if I was. I told her no.

When we were 15 you changed my life.

You and James and Peter. You couldn’t end my exile but you found a way to join me in it, and that changed everything. You already knew my secret, but then it became _our_ secret. Something we shared, time we spent together. Even if I didn’t remember who we were, I knew you were my friends.

I started waking up in the shack to find a chocolate tucked in with my clothes. Then I’d come back to the castle and find another on my pillow. I knew it was you leaving them. And it was always you fussing over my bandages, grabbing my wrist to keep me from scratching, sneaking across to my bed in the middle of the night because you heard me wake up from a nightmare when no one else did.

When we were 16 you kissed me.

It was my birthday. I think I forgot how to breathe. I pushed you away so hard you nearly fell out the window. You didn’t understand why I was upset, and I was so mad because it seemed so obvious and how dare you be so reckless.

It took James a week to figure out why were fighting, then two more weeks to convince us to talk, make me explain.

You spent all summer convincing me it was safe.

When we were 17 we were the worst roommates our friends could possibly have had.

We were young, and stupid, and obnoxiously in love.

You dragged me out of bed one night just after the full moon when I was too tired to sleep—you were 18 by then. You charmed a towel to cover that painting because I was embarrassed for her to see.

When we were 21 my world ended and I thought it was all your fault.

When we were 34 I realized how wrong I’d been.

For a moment I had you back. Then we lost everything again.

When we were 35 we actually got our second chance.

We’d lost so much time and both been through so much we found a rift between us that wasn’t there before, that wouldn’t go away no matter how tightly we clung to each other or how hard we tried to ignore it.

Since then, we’ve been working to fill in that gap, to bridge it, because neither of us can stand to let it keep us apart.


End file.
